


The Demon of My Dreams

by IneffableToreshi



Series: Accidental Confessions [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Sex, Angel/Demon Relationship, Angel/Demon Sex, Anxious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Coming Untouched, Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Dream Sex, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Gay Sex, Gratuitous Smut, Idiots in Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Love Confessions, M/M, Oblivious Crowley (Good Omens), Revelations, Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, Top Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:06:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21575731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IneffableToreshi/pseuds/IneffableToreshi
Summary: Aziraphale has taken to napping after the events of the Apocalypse, but is unaware that he has a habit of talking in his sleep. Crowley thinks it's adorable, until the day it's something much, much more.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Accidental Confessions [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1554925
Comments: 40
Kudos: 552





	The Demon of My Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically the same concept as "The Angel of My Dreams", except swapped, and with some different kinds of reactions. <3 Hope you enjoy it! Smut-ahoy!
> 
> I thrive on your love, so please let me know what you think!  
> If you enjoy my writing, please check out my other stuff by browsing my blog over at http://traceytobin.wordpress.com!

The thwarting of the Apocalypse had changed a great deal, even if most of the creatures on the planet would never realize it. One such change was that an angel called Aziraphale had taken to the occasional well-deserved nap. Prior to the world not ending, sleep had simply never been an indulgence that he found himself particularly interested in. Afterwards, however, he began to see the appeal of letting his corporation rest after long, eventful days.

The demon called Crowley had been rather surprised the first time he'd wandered into the bookshop to find Aziraphale on the sofa with a book laying on his gently rising and falling chest. It had given him quite the start, in fact, as he'd never personally seen the angel sleep and had thought, for a moment, that something awful had happened. 

But Crowley soon came to enjoy the moments when he got to see the angel in this most vulnerable of states, because he knew something the other didn't: Aziraphale talked in his sleep.

It wasn't as though any great truths of the Universe were being revealed, but it was just so blessedly adorable. Aziraphale would mumble about ancient texts and scrumptious pastries, and all manner of earthly delights. Listening made Crowley feel warm inside with the pure, unreserved innocence of it all. 

It wasn't surprising then when Aziraphale drifted off in the passenger seat of the Bentley after they'd spent a long day out visiting the former antichrist and his friends, and Crowley happily let him do so. He even drove a little (just a _little_ ) slower to avoid waking the angel with any sudden movements.

They had just entered the London city limits when the first sleepy word was uttered, and it was definitely _not_ one the demon had been expecting.

"....Crow...ley…"

The demon's chest fluttered in a very funny way indeed. He tore his eyes from the road to gaze at the dreaming angel and confirm that he was still definitely asleep, then he allowed himself a little chuckle. "How scandalous, an angel dreaming about a demon," he teased his fatigued friend. "Just wait until I tell you. You'll go as red as a cherry, I can see it already."

With great restraint he managed to quiet himself before he woke the dear thing, just in time for a little more dreamy dialog to mumble through.

"...so...good…"

Crowley's teeth ground together at the word, but it wasn't because he was angry. He'd let Aziraphale think so for a very, very long time, but the truth was that the demon actually rather enjoyed being praised. Enjoyed it, in fact, a little too much, which was why he couldn't be allowing the angel to get away with such things.

With another, somewhat more anxious chuckle, Crowley glanced over at his best friend, slumped adorably against the Bentley's door. His little tartan bow tie was askew and a few of his cloud-white curls had fallen out of place. The sight did wonderful, horrible things to Crowley who had, despite everything, never found the courage to make another move after the events of 1967. 

And how funny that he should think of that now, just as another few sinfully-sighed words spilled from the angel's parted lips.

"...Crowley...dear... _faster_ …"

It may have been that Crowley's brain temporarily short-circuited, because his immediate reaction was to frown at the Bentley's dashboard and ask for its input. "Faster?" he wondered aloud. "Angel hates fast. What in Heaven is he dreaming ab-"

" _Faster,_ " Aziraphale moaned, and the sound that accompanied the word had absolutely no right coming from an angel's throat. 

A panicked, entirely unintended demonic miracle had them outside Crowley's flat in a blink, whereupon he slammed on the Bentley's brakes with both feet. The scream of the tires (which knew better than to wear down from the abuse) and the sudden violent jerk of his body against the safety belt woke Aziraphale with a cry of alarm. That cry soon became an indignant shout when it became clear that they were in no immediate life-threatening danger.

"Crowley, what the Heaven do you think you're playing at? Are you _trying_ to discorporate us?"

When the demon didn't respond, the angel turned a haughty glare on him to find that Crowley was staring at him with his mouth hanging open. His glasses had slid a ways down his nose, revealing wide amber eyes saturated with shock.

Immediately, Aziraphale's demeanour shifted to one of concern. "Crowley? Dear? What on Earth has gotten you so out of sorts?"

 _Oh nothing, angel, just that I'm pretty sure you just made a sound that could only possibly be described by the words 'throes of passion' and you did so immediately after begging_ me _to go_ faster, _and-_

"I...you...that-"

At this juncture it was a foregone conclusion that, yes, Crowley's brain had in fact short-circuited.

Aziraphale was definitely well-concerned now, but when he made to turn his body toward his friend he noticed a decided _tightness_ in his trousers and immediately went fuchsia. 

_Not quite cherry, but adorable all the same_ , thought the one working brain cell in Crowley's otherwise frighteningly empty head. 

In a moment of pure horror, the angel recalled an incredibly pleasant dream he'd been having, and it all came together at once. A strange, squeaking, stammering sound was coming from him, unbidden, and he didn't seem able to decide whether he should get out of the car and run, or snap his fingers and hope that he ended up anywhere but here. In the end neither impulse won out over the inescapable desire to press both fists into his groin and pretend that nothing was out of the ordinary. 

Obviously it was _far_ too late for that. 

Amazingly, and quite befuddlingly, it was Crowley who turned, exited the Bentley, and began to walk away.

Aziraphale had just enough time for his entire being to fill with hurt, shame, and a deep, overwhelming misery. Then the passenger-side door swung open, scaring the daylights out of him, and Crowley was standing there, glasses straightened and features perfectly schooled.

"You look like you need a drink would you like a drink come on up for a drink angel." Despite his repaired appearance, Crowley spit the three sentences out as one in a pitch that would have made dogs whine before turning and walking back toward the Mayfair flat at speed. 

Aziraphale watched the demon enter the building and worried his lower lip. He thought that, perhaps, he should just go now, head back to the bookshop and consider all the different ways he could go about properly discorporating himself. But at the same time he didn't want to just _walk away_ from Crowley like that, not after...after everything. So instead he got out of the Bentley, gave the hood of the faithful vehicle a nervous pat as he closed the door, and headed for the building whilst willing away his exceptionally uncomfortable physical state.

Crowley was nowhere to be seen, so he stepped inside the lift alone, with a gulp, and did his best to banish the color of embarrassment that was still burning on his face.

 _Nothing to get so worked up over,_ he tried to tell himself. _Common thing among human men, that. Entirely uncontrollable. Honestly, it's Crowley who's being the ridiculous one. Honestly, what kind of reaction was that to have? It's not as though it was the end of the world again._

No, it was worse, he realized as he strode tentatively into the flat and was pressed quite suddenly against the door as it slammed closed. 

With one hand pressing against Aziraphale's shoulder and the other on the wall next to the angel's head, Crowley leaned too close, breathing too heavily, and stared at the angel with an expression that couldn't be read through his dark glasses. 

"You were dreaming about having sssex…" he hissed, unable to hold back the serpent, " _with me_."

Aziraphale had never before been so damned aware of just how hard his heart could beat. _Oh. Fuck._

He knew now that he absolutely _could not_ deal with this situation, not now that he truly understood exactly what the situation entailed. He had his fingers poised to snap, already considering all the possibilities of where he could hide out for a century or two, or three. But then both his hands were curled into fists beneath Crowley's long fingers and were being pressed to the door. He was trapped. 

"Tell me the truth, angel." Crowley's voice was surprisingly gentle, but he took a breath and gulped, hard, before continuing. "Are you- Do you-" He had to pause to shake his head, wet his lips, and then try again. " _Do you want to have sex with me?_ "

It almost sounded like an invitation, which made Aziraphale flush from his head to his toes, and oh...suddenly it was _far_ too hot in here. 

"I- Well, you see- That is-" His voice inflected upward a little more with each word.

Crowley took a handful of deep breaths. "Promise not to go anywhere?" he asked.

Though it was exactly what he wanted to do, Aziraphale nodded. 

Crowley released his hands, took another deep breath, and then slowly removed his glasses with shaking fingers. When he set his un-hidden amber eyes on Aziraphale the angel felt his chest constrict. He didn't think he could remember ever seeing the demon look so serious and vulnerable.

"Angel," he said - pleaded, really, "tell me the truth, please. Just...please, just tell me honestly. What do you or don't you feel for me?"

 _Well, this is it,_ thought Aziraphale. _There's absolutely no way I can answer this question with anything other than the truth._

"I love you," he said, barely a whisper. His gaze was locked on Crowley's, so he saw the way his reptilian pupils dilated. "I've loved you for...a very long time, in fact. You're the most important thing to me in this or any other world." He paused to take a long, deep, shuddering breath. "I- I want to be with you, always. And yes-" he added with a gulp and a hot feeling at the back of his neck, "-I suppose that includes the... _biblical_ sense of being with you." Once he'd managed to get it all out he let his gaze drop to the floor at his feet.

_Here we go. It's all over now. A demon can't love an angel, and even if he could why the Heaven would he want me? Go on, Crowley, get it over with. I don't think I can handle it any longer._

Shaking fingers touched his cheeks and shifted his head to meet waiting lips that invited him into their deep, breathtaking warmth. It filled his whole body, his whole being, his past and his present and his future. It was as light as a feather, that kiss, and yet it held him like the most powerful chains, never to be released. It was the brightest star in the night sky, a precious, irreplaceable thing that drew him in and held him close and promised to keep him safe for all eternity. 

The lips pulled away, and for a moment Aziraphale just stood there, eyes closed, lips parted, struggling to draw breath. When he finally opened his eyes he was met by a painfully beautiful sight. Twin wings of the darkest ebony wrapped around them both, holding them together in a warm, safe cocoon, blocking out the rest of the world. 

Aziraphale's blue eyes met Crowley's amber, and he had to struggle to fight back the tears that threatened to flow. "I felt it," the angel whispered. It was the most shocking revelation of his existence, and yet it seemed so damned obvious in retrospect. "I felt your love." Now a few tears _did_ fall, but they fell alongside the brightest of smiles. "You _can_ love...and you love _me_."

Crowley had at least a million things he wanted to say to that, but before he could get out a single syllable Aziraphale had snatched up the lapels of his jacket and yanked their bodies back together. The second kiss contained all of the angel's love, being reflected back at the demon a hundred times over, and by the time this second kiss was broken both of them were gasping for air, desperate to ground themselves in reality. 

Crowley's hands found Aziraphale's and wound their fingers together, long, cool digits tangling into firm, warm ones. One lovely black wing broke the cocoon and angled away as though to gesture down the hallway. "Stay the night?" Crowley asked, and that vulnerable look was back, but it was joined by a smile that was positively devilish. "Let me make your dreams come true?"

Aziraphale couldn't seem to get enough air into his lungs to form words, so he simply nodded.

Crowley led him by both hands, slowly walking backwards through the flat as though frightened the angel might crumble if they were to part for even a second. He didn't let go even when they reached the bedroom, opting to gently lower the angel onto the black silk sheets and slide over top of him to press tender kisses to his cheeks, nose, chin, jaw. Black wings fluttered above them, filling the room like a protective shield, daring the world to even _try_ to interrupt.

Delicate fingers traced along Aziraphale's jaw, down his throat, and dipped beneath the tartan bow tie to deftly remove it and place it reverently aside on the night table. 

The slow, deliberate movements were sending electric shivers all through the angel's body. It made him feel just a little bit bold, a little bit courageous. "It's okay if you want to go a little...faster," he suggested.

The lips that were currently pressed to his collarbone curled into a smile. "Not yet, angel," Crowley purred. "Not until you're begging for it."

_Oh Lord._

Crowley took all the time in the world, taking the angel apart bit by bit by bit. Each article of clothing was placed aside delicately, each bit of exposed skin ravished with kisses, luxuriated by soft, trailing fingertips. By the time the demon was removing the last article - his decidedly too-tight boxer shorts - Aziraphale felt like he was going to come undone. He was having trouble keeping his breathing steady, and his hips kept pulsing up of their own accord. Whenever Crowley was close enough he'd card his fingers through the demon's beautiful hair, and this helped center him, but at the moment Crowley was standing - still fully clothed - at the edge of the bed, admiring his handiwork. It was, truthfully, making Aziraphale a little self-conscious. He had a sudden inkling that Crowley was going to laugh at him, mock his plus corporation, and walk away, revealing it all to have been a cruel joke. 

"Angel…" the demon finally said, and Aziraphale cringed internally. "You are...so fucking beautiful."

The warmth returned to the angel's body all at once as Crowley leaned forward to stroke slightly-rough hands up bare legs, lingering on soft thighs. "So fucking beautiful," the demon repeated, and it sounded like a prayer, like veneration. He ducked to press his mouth against one of those thighs, sinking his teeth into the flesh just hard enough to make Aziraphale gasp and groan and roll his hips. 

"Oh...Crowley, dearest…" The angel couldn't help the way the words gasped from his throat. "I- I think you're trying to _end_ me, my dear."

"Never," Crowley hissed between little nips of trembling flesh. "I want to keep you like this forever, claim this body as my own and worship it for all eternity." 

Aziraphale shuddered in the most wonderful way. He felt that Crowley's words were caressing his insides, gentle balm to every fledgling insecurity he'd ever allowed to wiggle its way into his mind. "Oh, love," he breathed. "It's yours. I'm yours. All of me, whatever you want, for as long as you want."

The sound Crowley made at that was the deep rumbling growl of an insatiable beast. It was thrilling and terrifying all at once. "How do you want this, angel?" he rumbled against Aziraphale's flesh. "Tell me what you want most, what you dream of in that beautiful head of yours."

It seemed so foolish that this request should make Aziraphale's cheeks go pink, but he found himself _quite_ flustered and unable to speak. Crowley seemed to sense his trepidation and, while nipping and nibbling his way up to the angel's stomach and chest, he settled on a different method. 

"Do you want my hands, love? My…" He deftly licked an erect nipple and watched his angel squirm beautifully. "Mouth?" he finished with a grin. 

_Oh lord, that mouth, those lips, that tongue…_

Aziraphale surprised them both by choking out, "Neither." He immediately flushed an even deeper red as Crowley cocked a curious eyebrow at him. It was an immense test of the angel's willpower to hold the demon's gaze as he spoke his next words. "I-in my dream-" He gulped. "You...you t-take me, without touching me...there." 

_God in Heaven, I'm going to combust from embarrassment._

But Crowley's lips had curled into a rather amused smile. "So what you're saying is that you want me here-" He reached down and trailed his fingers between the angel's cheeks, drawing out a little squeal. "-without touching you here-" His fingers floated up until they were hovering just a breath away from Aziraphale's leaking erection. 

The just-not-quite-there fingers made Aziraphale's heart race and his breath quicken. He wanted _so badly_ for those fingers to wrap around his tortured length, to stroke him and draw the very life out of him. But, he thought with a desperate giddiness, that could wait for another time. Right now he wanted to know if the reality could possibly live up to the dream that had inadvertently brought them to this point. 

He nodded, just once at first, but then fervently. "Y-yes! Yes, please…"

Crowley's grin was simply sinful, and yet somehow so bloody tender and loving at the same time. "As you wish, angel," he cooed, and let his fingers flutter away from Aziraphale's body to finally - _finally_ \- reach for his own clothes. 

He didn't move nearly as slowly while undressing himself, but there was definitely a clear intention to tease as he slid the articles off one by one, finishing with the snug black pants that barely contained his excitement.

Again, Aziraphale gulped. "I-I've never done this before," he suddenly admitted.

Crowley looked neither surprised nor deterred. He looked, perhaps, a little pleased. "Neither have I," he revealed.

Aziraphale, it was clear, _was_ surprised, but Crowley answered the question before it could be asked.

"Came close a few times... _tempter_ and all...but I could never bring myself to close the deal. All I could ever think of was you." He crawled, oh so sensually, like a snake slithering through the air, up over his angel. He was very careful not to let an inch of him brush against Aziraphale's aching cock. Long fingers ran through soft white curls with a reverence that could never be matched. "It's always been you, my angel. Only you. The only one I've ever wanted."

Aziraphale's heart felt far too full. He thought he might burst from the intensity of it. He wrapped his hands around the back of Crowley's neck and pulled him in for a fierce kiss in which he placed all his love, hope, and desire. And as that rush of emotion flowed between them, Crowley snapped and pressed slick fingers to the tight muscle waiting for him. 

Aziraphale's chest fluttered and his stomach tensed at the sweet sensation. He groaned, wanton, against Crowley's lips as a single long finger slipped into him, pressing, exploring. Crowley devoured the sounds the angel made, drawing them into himself as he probed and stroked the inside of his lover's body. He swallowed another groan as he slipped a second finger in and then - because Aziraphale was positively keening with the need for it - a third.

He scissored those fingers, stretching his angel, preparing him well to a chorus of lovely, sinful sounds, and then he brought the three fingers together and _curled_ them. 

Aziraphale almost came then, his hips canting wildly at the brilliant, bubbling pressure of Crowley's press against his prostate. He writhed with the pleasure of it, allowing unholy sounds to escape his throat.

Crowley lowered his lips to that throat, licking and sucking and biting as his fingers worked that spot again and again. 

"P-please!" Aziraphale gasped. "Dearest, love, I need you, I need you now!"

"Your wish is my command, angel," Crowley growled. In the next moment his fingers were gone and he was lining up, his gaze intent on Aziraphale's wrecked hair and blown, lidded eyes. Then he _pushed..._ oh, so very slowly.

It almost killed the angel outright. Crowley had never moved so slow in all the six thousand years they'd known one another, but now it seemed he was intent to take all the time in the Universe. It was horrible, painstaking, _agonizing…_

_It was oh so fucking good._

Aziraphale fought the urge to lift his hips to meet the demon, fought the urge to reach down and savage himself, and instead he fisted his fingers in the plush pillow beneath his head as he fell to pieces.

They were both panting and gasping for breath by the time Crowley's hips met Aziraphale's thighs, and there was sweat dripping down Crowley's forehead with the exertion of holding himself back. For a moment Aziraphale was certain he was going to crack, that the need would get the better of him and he would start thrusting with reckless abandon. He waited for it, _prayed_ for it.

But then Crowley was pulling back, just as slowly as he'd gone in. His hands gripped Aziraphale's thighs, trembling with the effort.

It was the desire, the desperate _want_ in the demon's eyes, that made Aziraphale the one to crack first. 

"Please, Crowley!" he cried, hips jerking against his will. "Please, please, faster, I'm begging you!"

There wasn't even a heartbeat of hesitation. The hands that had been squeezing Aziraphale's thighs lifted them instead, throwing them up over Crowley's shoulders. And then the demon came loose. 

Aziraphale didn't even recognize the voice making the sounds that were coming from his own throat.

Crowley rammed into him like a man possessed - and wasn't that an ironic thought? - but still took the care to ensure that his hips were angled _just_ right, that his movements struck _just_ the right spot over and over again in rapid successful, sending Aziraphale over the moon and back again. 

He'd been so thoroughly teased, so wonderfully tormented, so _denied_ in the most thrilling of ways, that finally finding that glorious release felt like fireworks exploding behind the angel's eyes. He couldn't even hear himself anymore, but he knew that there were sounds because he could feel the vibrations coming up through his chest and throat while his body twitched and jerked, clenched and released. He thought for sure that this feeling was going to be the end of him, and he knew in that same thought that he would be perfectly satisfied if he turned out to be right. 

He gasped and groaned and cried out while Crowley continued on until, a few more moments later, his body shuddered and he spilled hot and sticky into his lover's body before collapsing on top of him. 

Aziraphale had no idea how long they lay like that, their breaths erratic, heart-rates struggling to slow. At some point Crowley disengaged himself and crawled up closer, so that they were side-to-side, warm and buzzing with sensation. Aziraphale lifted a hand to play joyfully with his demon's hair, and Crowley slung an arm and a leg across his angel's body to squeeze him close. 

"Is this really real?" Aziraphale asked in a blissed out, disbelieving voice. "Because it rather feels like I just got my heart's deepest, most secret desire, and that's a bit-" He faltered.

"Terrifying?" Crowley supplied, running his fingers along his angel's stomach. "Unbelievable? Life-affirming?"

Aziraphale considered. "All of those," he decided. "And so much more." He turned to bury a smile in Crowley's lovely red hair. "You know that I'm never going to let you go now, right?"

Crowley lifted his head to settle the angel with an incredulous look. "Who in Heaven are _you_ kidding? I'm the one who's going to be holding on for dear life, angel. _You're_ the one who's stuck with _me_."

Aziraphale chuckled and angled his face down for a soft kiss. "Then I guess we're both truly trapped, because I feel the same."

That made Crowley snuggle back down, his cheek on Aziraphale's shoulder, nose nuzzling the angel's face. He squeezed his lover tighter, wrapping himself around the angel like the snake he sometimes was. His lovely black wings were still out, but they'd flopped back against the side of the bed like he hadn't the strength to either keep them upright or dematerialize them. 

"Should we-" He lifted his hand away from the angel's skin just long enough to wave it around in a meaningful gesture. "-clean up?"

"Mmm...not just yet," Aziraphale decided. "I must admit that I'm rather taken with the sensation of, well, _everything_ at the moment. I'd like to savour it a bit longer."

At that Crowley lazily lifted one ebony wing and draped it across both of them like a blanket. "I'm okay with that," he agreed. Then, with a wicked smile. "Just let me know when you're ready to go again, angel."

The very suggestion made Aziraphale's cock twitch, which had Crowley rumbling with barely-contained laughter. "I've created a monster," he teased.

"No, darling," Aziraphale corrected with a grin and a playful tug of the demon's hair. "You've just fallen in love with a hedonist."


End file.
